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herself into. “All right, fine. Mind if I stick around for a while? I feel like shit.”
    I smiled. “Sure. Have some more coffee.”
    After finishing my coffee I walked down the hall to the laundry room. Monday was normally my cleaning day, but the laundry would have to wait. When I checked to see if I had detergent I remembered something else.
    I dashed back into the kitchen where Jamie was still slumped over the table.
    “We’ve only got a few hours before we’re supposed to have lunch with Mandy.”
    “Shit. I need to get home and change.” Jamie looked down at her rumpled clothes and touched her tangled hair again. “And get a bath.”
    “Do you know where we’re supposed to meet her?”
    “Damn. I suck at giving directions.”
    “Can you write them down?”
    “Yeah. Give me some paper.”
    She scribbled down the directions and handed me the paper on her way to the door.
    “Thanks again,” she said, giving me a quick hug.
    “For what?”
    “For not letting me drink alone.” Her smile was kind. “And for telling me about you and Marcus.”
    “No problem. See you in a little while.”
    *****
    The restaurant Mandy picked was just over the Alabama state line and a forty minute drive from my house. As I glanced at the clock in my car I decided I was just going to have to be late. Mandy and I always got along in school, but we were never really “close.” So why did my appearance matter so much to me? Because Mandy was a year younger. It’s a small but petty truth about women. We will always want to look our best around a younger woman. When we’re in our teens it’s to show off the fact that we’re so much more grown up than them. When we’re in our late twenties and up, it’s to show that we’re still sexier than they are. Even if it’s someone you dearly love, deep down all women have this reaction.
    It took me thirty minutes to decide which jeans made me look slimmest. Another twenty minutes to decide which bra best lifted my 36DD cleavage and way too much time was spent on hair and makeup. All petty girl stuff aside, I’d always been insecure about my body. This was mostly because I’d had large breasts since the fourth grade. Lots of people think that wouldn’t be a problem, but it is. I’ve spent most of my life being self-conscious because I think everyone is staring at my breasts. The rest of me is okay. I’m not all hung up on myself, but I try to stay in good shape. I’m a size eight and I’m proud of that. At five-foot-four I do not consider myself overweight. I don’t want to be paper-thin. I just want to be fit and feel good about myself.
    The t-shirt I decided on was green, because I thought it went well with my hair. It was short and made to hang off one shoulder, all the more reason to be sure my bra matched. I’d picked something that wasn’t too tight hoping that eyes would be drawn toward my revealed midriff rather than my chest.
    When I arrived (only five minutes late) I found Jamie waiting in line outside. She was wearing similar jeans and a tight pink tank top.
    The first words out of her mouth? “Do I look stupid or is this cute? I mean, I didn’t go to school with her, but I knew her when she lived here and—”
    She stopped mid-sentence, saw the look on my face, and we both started to laugh.

Chapter Five
     
    I don’t know about Jamie, but once Mandy drove up I felt really stupid for worrying about how I looked. It wasn’t that she looked so much better or anything like that. She was radiant. The woman glowed from clear across the parking lot and it had nothing to do with her light blond hair. She was happy and it was clear for anyone to see.
    “I’m so glad you could come,” she said, hugging us both. “Sorry, I’m running late.”
    Mandy was taller than me too, but not as tall as Jamie. She’s around five-seven and she looked great in the pale blue dress and sandals she was wearing. I remembered Jamie saying she was pregnant, but you certainly